


The Frustrations of Dealing with (former) Emperor Georgiou

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Flash Fic, Inspired By Tumblr, Light Angst, POV Character of Color, Protective Michael, The Goodness of Michael Burnham's Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-22 18:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Michael has finally had enough of former Emperor Georgiou.





	The Frustrations of Dealing with (former) Emperor Georgiou

**Author's Note:**

> I made a post on my Tumblr, speculating about who'd end up as captain of the Discovery next - and saying I thought they should give it to MU!Georgiou rather than another white dude. [meri-dawn](http://meri-dawn.tumblr.com/) replied and her reply sparked this insta-fic!

After all Michael’s hard work to prepare the former Emperor to play Captain Philippa Georgiou full time as the new commanding officer of the _USS Discovery_ , the former Emperor destroys the illusion with less than a dozen words, and the entire Bridge goes still and silent, and Michael might not be a Kelpien, but she can feel the ripple of fear and unease that passes through the personnel present. No doubt they’re all remembering Gabriel Lorca.

“Captain, if I might have a word. In your ready room,” Michael says, the last four words being the pre-arranged signal between herself and the former Emperor that they need to talk urgently in private. Georgiou (Michael cannot bring herself to think of her as ‘Philippa’ - she has to keep some distance and separation between the two women in her head) barely refrains from rolling her eyes, but she gets to her feet in a lithe movement, then saunters across the bridge and into the ready room.

“Before you start -” Georgiou begins, barely waiting for the door to close behind Michael.

“How could you?” Michael demands, absolutely incandescent with fury. “After all the hours, _days!_ , I spent in drilling you, to bring you up to speed on who Philippa knew of this crew, so that you wouldn’t put your foot in your mouth. And you destroy all my hard work in this cavalier fashion. _You_ agreed to this! _You_ were the one who accepted Admiral Cornwell’s strictures on keeping your real identity a secret. And then to turn around and blow it before you’ve been on the Bridge five minutes!”

“It’s been two hours,” the former Emperor says, her tone churlish.

“I was speaking rhetorically!” snaps Michael. She’s now so angry that she thinks she could probably kill the other woman with her bare hands. “Do you have _any_ idea what this crew went through with that manipulative son of a bitch, Lorca?” She steps right into Georgiou’s personal space and wags a finger in her face. “No, you don’t, because you weren’t here. But I was. I know! And I pledged to protect this crew, to see that they never had to go through that all over again with you. And you just blew that away for the sake of _point scoring_ against Saru!” She turns away, throws her hands into the air with a repressed scream, then stalks across the room to stare out of the window, trying to get herself back under control, and trying, desperately, to figure out a way to ensure the crew don’t suffer under this.

“Commander.” Georgiou’s voice is not as harsh as Michael might’ve expected. Then she feels the other woman’s hand on her shoulder, her touch surprisingly tentative, given who and what this woman is and has been. “Michael.”

It’s very difficult for Commander Michael Burnham not to simply burst into tears at the soft way the former Emperor says her name, sounding so like _her_ Philippa. She bites her bottom lip, then grits out, “What?”

“I’m sorry.” The other woman is standing so close at Michael’s side that she hears her swallow. 

“I warned Admiral Cornwall this was a bad idea,” Michael observes wearily. “I told her you held Starfleet in too much contempt to take her strictures seriously. I wasn’t at all confident you had the self-discipline to abide by a set of rules and regulations that go so contrary to what your life previously was. And I was certain your time with Section 31 wouldn’t have helped with that.” She steps back a pace, then turns to look at the familiar, once dear, face. “You were practically a rogue agent, even by their standards.”

She’s surprised to see Georgiou flush and bite her lip. “I did it for you.”

Michael stares in incomprehension. “Did what for me?”

“Agreed to Admiral Cornwell’s scheme.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Michael shakes her head. “You could’ve done that without agreeing to this.”

“Not really,” Georgiou says. She heaves a sigh. “I hated you, at first, for looking like _that_ and not being _her_.”

“The feeling was pretty much mutual, trust me,” Michael says dryly.

“I know.” Michael thinks she sounds sad, but she decides she’s imagining that. Or projecting. Something. “But the way you stood up to me on Qo’noS, and the way you stood up to Admiral Cornwell - yes, she told me,” Georgiou says off Michael’s surprised look. “I admired you, and I realised that you weren’t soft, like I’d assumed. Then I read your file.”

Michael glares, but the Emperor is unrepentant. “I saw it as my right, given who Michael Burnham had been to me on the other side.” She sighs. “You’re so strong, so fierce, so passionate, and so stupidly, suicidally brave that I wanted to get to know you better. Wanted to find out what made you so different from my Michael.”

“You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, asked me?” 

“Would you have told me?”

Michael swallows as that hits home. “No,” she agrees thickly. 

The former Emperor shrugs. “No. So I persuaded Katrina Cornwell to let me take over as the Captain of the _Discovery_ once Starfleet Command were ready to transfer Captain Pike back to the _Enterprise_.”

“So why did you just blow it out there?” Michael asks.

Georgiou shakes her head. “I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Michael repeats, rather incredulous because that’s not the answer she’d expected. “Of Saru?”

“Yes.” Michael gives her a disbelieving look, and she huffs in annoyance, “I want to keep you to myself.”

“You do realise that’s not how a starship works, right?”

“Don’t you want to know why I wanted to keep you to myself?” Georgiou asks, and the change of tack throws her off.

“Go on, I’ll bite. Why?”

Rather than answering, Georgiou steps back into Michael’s personal space, and before she can work out what the other woman intends, a hand is cupping her cheek, and soft lips are pressing against her mouth. Michael lifts her hands, intending to push the other woman off her, but finds, instead, that she’s gripping Georgiou’s upper arms and is kissing her back with all the fierce love and devotion she’d felt for her Philippa. A tiny part of her is screaming at her that this is a very bad idea, that this Philippa Georgiou is a cold-blooded genocidal murderer, and a cannibal to boot, but that tiny part is overwhelmed by how good and how right it feels to finally be kissing Philippa Georgiou, after eight years of loving the woman to distraction, and to mutiny. She has no idea how they’re going to square things with the crew, but right now she doesn’t care. They don’t matter because Philippa Georgiou is kissing her, her thigh pressed firmly between Michael’s legs, and her hands sliding inside Michael’s uniform jacket to cup her suddenly heavy breasts, her thumbs brushing against Michael’s rapidly stiffening nipples.

“My darling girl,” Philippa murmurs against Michael’s mouth, and Michael _melts_.

_*** Transmission ends ***_


End file.
